Mal Vu
by MarySuOfYay
Summary: Beast Wars. Rampage gets a whole spark again. Sadly for Silverbolt, he's the first Maximal to find that out. Violence, mechanical torture. There are no pairings outside of cannon despite what the character listing tells you.
1. Chapter 1

Author notes: I have no real idea what inspired me to write this. After having a retro moment and watching the entire Beast Wars series on DVD in one fell swoop, I didn't even think about it for a good two months.

My brain gave me this. I blame my subconscious mind entirely, as I dreamt this whole thing. :P

If my brain gives me more of it, I'll write more of it.

Disclaimer: BWAHAHAH. No.

Warnings: Torture. Unsure if this can be defined as gratuitous. I don't know where this plot is going; my brain tends to plan things and not tell me.

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_There's a bed of skeletons waiting for me_

_On the other side_

_They're waiting for my next move_

_Next fatal breath_

-- Avenged Sevenfold, Remissions

**"Mal Vu"**

Waking from forced unconsciousness tended to be a very strange sensation for most beings, no matter the breed, make or faction. The slight dizziness and dancing spots were disorienting at best, especially if one couldn't quite recall how they had ended up unconscious in the first place. It was no different now, as yellow optics slowly flickered to life.

"Ow.." Was the first thought to race cross his CPU and, thus, the first thing that came out vocally. The mech sat up slowly, rubbing his aching head. Damage reports from his system demanded attention, but there were simply too many of them for limited focus to center on, so all were temporarily ignored. Glancing around, still trying to force his optics to cooperate fully, he found that hope of repair was likely somewhere between nil to none for now.

He was most certainly in a cage and someplace very, very warm. It didn't take long to realize the lava flowing beneath the hanging cage was likely the cause of the increased temperature.

"How did I _get _here?" It was asked to no one; there didn't appear to be anyone here. In fact, the entire area was as silent as a tomb. To say that Silverbolt was confused was a vast understatement.

Confusion quickly turned to alarm when he finally decided to pay attention to his damage reports; the left talon was simply gone -- although he couldn't recall how that had happened -- and his wing mechanisms appeared to be injured. Not that he could fly in a cage, but knowing that he theoretically _could _fly was normally a calming relief to the winged wolf; not having it at all increased his panic ever so slightly.

For a while, he simply stared at the stump of his leg in morbid fascination; the cut was clean, fused at the edge as if it had been against something incredibly hot, and didn't hurt in the least.

He couldn't recall how neither injury came about and, for now, did not care. As far as damage went, he had been in worse pain and came out all right in the end. For now, finding where he was, why, and how to escape was top priority.

No one was here. If he was where he surmised he was, it wasn't supposed to be this way. After a few cycles, Silverbolt was somewhat mortified to finally find his missing talon -- along with a small pile of other parts from who knows what or where -- in a neat little cluster not far from the cage. A cylindrical bracelet cuff on top of the pile caught his attention. Canine-esque ears perked up in recognition; his commlink!

Most of his wing missiles had been stripped -- and were within the pile, he assumed --, but several 'blanks' were still in his wing holster. He took one out and tried to reach the comm with it; if he could only hook it or press a button..!

"Come on, come on.." He reached as far as he could through the cage bars to get his feathery extension to the cuff. He couldn't quite hook it, and dared not accidentally push the comm away by fierce attempts. So, he simply tried to press that one button barely on the edge to simply turn it on, to start an automatic transmission. After what felt like a very long time, but was likely barely a breem, the edge of the button was hit.

The comm beeped to life. "Yes!" He took in a deep breath, smiling slightly in exhilaration. "Silverbolt to base!"

The static that responded for a moment clutched at his very spark for several seconds.

"Yo, bird-dog! Where've you been?! We've been lookin' for ya for almost the whole day!" Rattrap's voice had never sounded so beautiful in his life.

"I.. Think I've been captured." Silverbolt breathed.

"You WHAT?! Slag, I'll get Optimus! Knew the Preds've been too quiet..!" His voice trailed off, become farther away.

For a few precious nano-kliks, silence reigned. Silverbolt looked around warily, listening intently for any sound. Any at all.

"Silverbolt?" That was definitely Oprimus Primal on the other end of the comm; Silverbolt actually jumped at the sudden noise. "Are you all right? Where are you?"

"I'm relatively unharmed." Well, he had to admit that it could have been worse. "I believe I'm within the Darksyde, if the magma is any indication. I couldn't tell you how I ended up here, how --" He stopped abruptly, looking to the direction of an open doorway.

"Silverbolt?" Primal's concern was clear.

A loud squeak -- the sound of rusted and uncared for metal swinging open -- echoed from down the hall. Silence reigned even on the other side of the comm, Silverbolt waiting with slow, shallow breath.

A large monstrosity of a mech -- Rampage, aptly named -- simply walked on through, dragging what looked like all the world like a pile of scrap. He seemed quite pleased with himself. It was not lost on the fuzor that the destroyer of Omicron was very much alone.

No Megatron. No Preadacons. Rampage was _alone_.

The pile of scrap was suddenly dumped on the ground; the sound made Silverbolt jolt slightly. Then, Rampage simply walked down another hall, not even sparing the imprisoned fuzor a glance. The fuzor waited several seconds, unsure what to expect. A sudden squeak from a different source caused him to look sharply to the pile of scraps.

Silverbolt gasped aloud; it must have been heard on the other end of the comm, because Primal called his name in concern.

"Rampage is free." Silverbolt stared at the scraps with wide optics. "..I am, at this moment, staring at Quickstrike's mangled corpse." He paused a moment. "..I can't tell if he's still.." He paused, fuel pump beating faster and faster as the nano-kliks ticked on. "..Functioning or not."

The silence on the other end of the comm spoke volumes; each and every mech and femm amongst them -- Maximal, Predacon -- dreaded the day when Protoform X might regain freedom.

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"..Holy slag." Rattrap actually felt his energon veins reroute fuel away from his head, blanching.

"..Agreed." Optimus half whispered, horrified at the connotations of a psychopathic immortal free to wreck havoc. He took control of a secondary comm. "All units return to base. I repeat, everyone, get back to base as fast as possible!" He shut down that line before any arguments or questions could be sent back, looking to Rattrap's comm station. "Silverbolt, we'll get you out soon, try to stay calm."

"We're all gonna die." Rattrap squeaked from shock, truly believing his own words for the first time.

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Silverbolt had truly been tempted to respond to the order to 'stay calm' with sarcasm typically devoted to Rattrap, panic and terror starting to climb at the sight of the mangled mech on the floor. Looking at the wreck of a body, the fuzor was almost certain Quickstrike was still alive; crimson optics occasionally flared back online, would flicker, and then shut down again.

It did appear most of the Predacon was simply gone; the bare essentials left to stay alive had been left. Both legs and the cobra arm were missing; why the other arm was still there was unknown. Wires dangled horrifically from where the limbs should have been.

"We're all gonna die." He barely heard the squeak from the comm. He did, however, hear the stressed echo from the hall.

Silverbolt did not want to admit that he was really rather frightened. Terrified, actually; he had heard incredibly horrific stories from Primal and Rhinox about Protoform X and some of what happened on Omicron. To be in the same room with the monster was rather high on the list of things he rather not experience; being a prisoner of the mech in question was somewhere close to number one.

Rampage calmly walked back inside, actually humming a cheerful tune as he strode in. The very ominous looking hacksaw -- all metal, no energon blade or laser there -- sent cold shivers down the fuzor's back.

It was really rather unfortunate for the other fuzor in the room to flicker online when he did. Optics flashed online again, looking directly at the very large and very pointy hacksaw. Said optics widened as far as they could likely go when the hacksaw came down and Rampage laughed in delight.

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The comm was still on. Neither side had the courage to try and shut the connection down, now. Shocked and horrified silence reigned aboard the Axalon as Quickstrike's hoarse begging and screaming came through, shrieks that would have driven ordinary bots to sympathy. Even Megatron had been known not to handle screaming well for very long.

Almost a full breem later -- screaming had waned ever so slightly to sobbing -- and the rest of Axalon's crew were once again within the ship. Optimus had whispered what had happened, not knowing what X would have done if he knew that the comm was transmitting as much as it was.

It took nearly three full breems for the noises to finally die down; a cry cut off with a horrid abruptness.

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From the moment Quickstrike had started to scream, Silverbolt had offlined his optics, refusing to look at the scene. Less than a full cycle thereafter, his hands covered his audio receptors. No love was lost between the two fuzors, but that did not mean the canine wanted to bear witness to the torture or murder of the scorpion.

Despite closing himself off, he noticed when the screams ended. It still took nearly a full cycle to uncover himself and see reality again.

X stood barely feet from the cage, looking directly at him.

Silverbolt yelped a bit and shrank back for only a moment; then, he glared and growled at the large mech, noticing the corpse on the edge of his vision.

Quickstrike was very much and very certainly offline. His spark chamber was wide open, dark, empty and dead.

"Are you frightened, Silverbolt?" The unnervingly calm tone of Rampage's voice was somehow less of a terror than hearing the thing speak his name.

Silverbolt didn't respond; he found himself mute from sheer terror, shrinking as far in to the cage as possible. Yet, he maintained the growling; to his credit, he didn't divert his deep glare once.

Rampage let out an uproarious laugh. "Delightful! Perhaps you'll be more fun than I anticipated.." With that, the crab quickly opened the hanging cage and pulled the fuzor out through the swung open hatch. Dark glee danced in the crimson mech's optics.

Silverbolt didn't have time to say or attempt anything at all; he could only yelp in sudden pain as he was slammed, face-first, in to the floor. Something cracked; it took a moment to realize it was an optic. It was barely a comfort to find it wasn't gone entirely; it merely distorted his vision.

It wasn't lost on the fuzor that the comm was barely a foot away; did Rampage know it was on? There wasn't time to ruminate over the query; a deep, sharp pain from his back evoked a pained yelp.

Rampage chuckled; then, he calmly tore Silverbolt's right wing clear off his back, tossing it to the side in the same simple motion. Silverbolt buckled and screamed, flailing -- or trying to -- with one large claw pinning his shoulder down and his lower back straddled. The world actually went black for a brief moment from the intense pain; he had never felt anything quite like that in his life.

Spots danced in the air again, a twirling miasma not quite letting him fall back in to unconsciousness. Silverbolt gasped and wheezed for several seconds; just as his vision began to clear, the sharp stinging pain returned to his back; tensing did not diminish the renewed pain as his other wing met the same fate as it's brother, nor lesson the slightly hoarser scream.

The only thing the fuzor was able to do for quite some time was lie in the growing pool of his own mech fluid. Despite the fact that he had been staring at the commlink since the torture began, it wasn't until now that he had finally noticed it was there.

"I'm going to _slagging KILL you_!" He knew that voice from the comm, shrieking in what was nothing less than absolute fury.

"Blackarachnia.." Silverbolt simply stared at the comm.

"Don't you _DARE _touch him again, you slagging --"

Rampage chuckled calmly from above him, one claw still pinning him down. The other reached for the commlink and, with a simple press of a button, ended the transmission in the middle of Blackarachnia's rant. Perhaps the loss of vital fluids had an impact on his frame of mind, but the fuzor found himself utterly unsurprised that Rampage had known about the commlink the entire time.

"Now, let's have some fun, shall we?" Silverbolt could actually hear grin and quaked.

_If we didn't have hope, how would we behave?_

_Would they still feel remorse_

_If they slaughtered innocent beings?_

_Or is hope the only thing that keeps you sane?_

-- Avenged Sevenfold, Reminissions

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Author notes: Best part is? Neither Silverbolt nor Rampage were my favorites when I was younger. o_o


	2. Chapter 2

_Author notes: This thing grew a plot despite my intentions. I apologize in advance._

_I'm also rather surprised I didn't get a single flame review. A torture fic from a ten-year-old series? Seriously, nothing? I wanted to frame them on my wall.. =D_

_I have no idea where this is heading. My subconscious likes to plan things and not tell me until multiple chapters in._

_Disclaimer: AHAHAHAHA. No._

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_Time feels like a midnight ride,_

_Finality waits outside_

_Weeping in perplexity's arms_

_Caressing our smiles inside_

-- "Thetawaves", System of a Down

**Mal Vu: Part Two**

A groan echoed faintly around the antechamber, a caged figure stirring after hours of inactivity. Spots swirled in the air, a dancing visage of speckled lights, briefly hypnotizing the waking form.

Waking from forced unconsciousness yet again; he was starting to get used to this.

Jade optics onlined slowly, flickering for a moment in an effort to convince the spots to dance away, before actually looking to the world around him. Silverbolt was completely and utterly unsurprised -- although greatly dismayed -- to find himself back in the same cage he had woken in the last time. The same barred metal berth hanging above slowly flowing magma. The fuzor rubbed the back of his head, wincing slightly, before stopping at sudden realization.

The world wasn't broken. His left optic, the one that had cracked the last time he had been awake, was in one piece now. Taking stock of the rest of his body -- both by damage reports and by touch to confirm it -- he found most of himself repaired almost fully. His wings were still gone, but the mechanism that had moved them was now intact. His talon, as well, was still missing, but the leg it had been attached to was less wounded than it previously had been.

_Why?_

More than slightly worried about suddenly being in good health, Silverbolt looked around rapidly; so fast, in fact, that he was forced to do a double take when he noticed one of the other cages was full.

The body in the cage next to his own was lying face-down and unmoving. Operational, he assumed, or the body wouldn't be in a cage. Straining to see exactly who it was and fearing the worst, his fluid pump actually stopped when he noticed a large spider leg hanging out from between the bars.

Said pump started beating again when he noticed the leg was purple and not black; Tarantulas.

With a sigh and a deep frown, Silverbolt looked around the prison chamber. He hadn't had the chance to really see the area the last time he had been awake, but found very little had changed. The piles of scraps and Quickstrike's corpse were still exactly where they had been before. His wings were in a rather gruesome pile against the wall, close to a large circle of his own mech fluid. A deep shiver ran down his spine, and he looked away.

After finding very little useful visually, the fuzor started to test the bars of his cell. He didn't expect much, but it simply couldn't hurt to check. He grabbed every one, trying to twist or break them free. Half the bars were tested and proven useless when a sudden groan caused him to stop.

Silverbolt turned quickly to look at the other filled cage; Tarantulas was waking up.

The spider woke up slowly, rolling on his back as optics flickering in much the same way his own had earlier. The Predacon scientist looked at the top of the cage, looked at him, looked around, and then let out another groan before letting the back of his head fall with a soft 'thud'. "Slag."

Silverbolt couldn't help the slight smirk; he knew exactly how that spider was feeling.

Tarantulas inclined his head ever so slightly to look at the canine. "Please tell me you're not the last Maximal alive."

Silverbolt blinked in surprise, frowning. "I sincerely hope that I'm not."

"I'll take that as a yes." Tarantulas laughed nervously. The chuckling stopped abruptly, mid-sound. "Are we in the Pit?"

The fuzor blinked again, optic ridges rising ever so slightly; he worried, briefly, if the spider had fallen in to complete lunacy. "I.. Don't believe we are."

"Oh." Tarantulas let his head fall back again. "Then we really are slagged." He started to laugh once again.

Silverbolt edged to the far side of his cage, as far away from the transmetal spider as possible, disturbed by the mad giggling.

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When the transmission had ended, a tense silence reigned aboard the Axalon. Shock, coupled with various degrees of horror and fury, robbed the collection of Maximals out of sound. Even Blackarachnia, the only one who's rage exceeded all other emotions when the screams had started, now sputtered in absolute and thorough anger, glaring at the comm controls. A single pincer clung to the panel, grip so tight that it dented the metal inward.

"So.." A shocked Rattrap somehow managed to find his vocal chords -- still sitting by the main console -- and slowly looked up towards his captain. "..What do we do now?"

"We're going in, right, big bot?" A slightly shaky Cheetor piped up first, transmetal optics wide.

Optimus Primal frowned deeply, horrified by the situation and hating what his own logic circuits were telling him. "It's a trap. Rampage is trying to lure us there." That much was obvious.

"So, what?!" Blackarachnia, shaking from complete and barely restrained fury quickly turned to glare at Primal. "Are you suggesting we _leave_ him there?!"

"What I'm suggesting, Blackarachnia, is we find out exactly where in the Predacon base he actually is before mounting a rescue. We aren't even positive that that's where he is."

Blackarachnia gaped at Primal, fierce anger clear in her expression. "Wha --"

"He's right." Rhinox interrupted, wincing a little as he said it; they had all heard the horrifying screams, and his expression betrayed just how shaken he was despite attempts otherwise. "If we run in the way we are now, that.. _thing _will kill us all. We won't be any help to him if we're all dead."

"I don't like this any more than any of you do.." Primal held his hands up in a placative gesture. "By the Matrix, I don't want to leave him in there, but we can't run in blindly and hope for the best. We need to have a plan." He took in a deep breath. "Rattrap, put Sentinel in full alert. Shields as high as they'll go."

Blackarachnia glared at Primal, visibly shaking. Her pincers let out a soft clicking sound as furious tremors went through her; after several short cycles, she stalked out of the control room, swearing under her breath.

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"Hehehehehe.." Tarantulas had been giggling for at least a breem, now. He would occasionally stop for several seconds, only to start up again in seemingly random spouts of hilarity. Or possibly insanity. Really, it didn't matter which.

Silverbolt had quickly grown quite annoyed with the laughter, sitting on the far side of his cell and covering his audio receptors as much as he could. It didn't keep out sound completely -- only muffled the noise --, and he sorely wished the spider would shut up.

A loud, familiar creak caused the spider in question to stop laughing mid-breath. Silverbolt looked up sharply as well, recalling the sound as a door or hinge opening down the hall. Rampage had either come in or out every time that noise went off, and the fuzor found himself freezing in anticipation.

A short cycle later, and the transmetal crab calmly walked in. He spared neither of his captives so much as a glance; instead, he carefully dug through the pile of scrap metal and body parts. Both the encaged Maximal and Predacon cringed slightly as Quickstrike's corpse was torn apart further and parts taken.

With a small armful of shrapnel and wires in his arms, Rampage started to walk out again, heading in the other direction. He stopped mid-stride as he passed Silverbolt's torn wings; he seemed indecisive for a moment, staring at the feathered limbs. After a long cycle of thought, the crab walked up to the wings and collected them both.

Silverbolt choked slightly, feeling his entire frame stop; his wings! Those were his _wings_! He watched Rampage leave with his precious wings, nearly protesting aloud; once the crab was gone, he let out a soft moan, forehead thumping softly against the bars.

"..Hehe." Tarantulas suddenly laughed again, surprising the fuzor. "Looks like he's building something."

The ordinarily winged canine didn't answer, mourning his wings.

"Hey." It seemed, however, that the transmetal was now in the mood to chat. "Were you.. Repaired?"

Silverbolt turned his head slightly to glance at the spider. "Yes, although I don't know why."

Tarantulas seemed to think that over, looking over himself as he did so. He visibly became more and more agitated as he did so.

Silverbolt took in a deep breath; he had a feeling he would regret asking this later. "What is it?" The question was moaned.

Tarantulas looked at him, incredulous, the visor that served as his optics seemed to grow. "You aren't the least bit concerned over the fact that he tore us apart and then repaired us instead of killing us?"

The canine fuzor simply stared at Tarantulas. "What are you saying?"

"What am I --" The transmetal actually sputtered. "All the Predacons are dead. _All_ of them. Even Megatron is gone." He paused for a moment. "He's keeping us alive, you idiot!"

"Why?" Silverbolt snarled slightly at the insult.

"How the slag should I know?!" Tarantulas flailed slightly.

Silverbolt had to admit that the concept of being kept alive by an insane psychopath that enjoyed torturing people was far worse than being killed by said psychopath. "If you know how to escape, I'm all ears."

Tarantulas actually drooped a little at that, shaking for a moment. Then, he started to test the bars in much the same way his fellow captive did a short time ago.

With a soft sigh, Silverbolt let his head fall against the bars again, praying for both the Maximals to stay safe in the Axalon and a rescue at the same time.

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_The unsettled mind is at times an ally_

_Leaving the senses to fend for themselves_

_The senses collect undeniable data_

_About beta carotene and theta waves;_

_The unsettled mind is at times an ally_

_Leaving the senses to fend for themselves_

_Then, the senses wanted the sky_

-- "Thetawaves", System of a Down


	3. Chapter 3

Author notes: This chapter just fell out of me. It involved a long bus ride and a notebook I had remembered to take with me. Joy for you, eh?

Warnings: Graphic torture. But that's why you're reading this, isn't it? ;)

Disclaimer: AHAHAHAHA! .... AHAHAHAHA! :D

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_For today _

_We will take the body parts and put them on the wall_

_For treated indigenously, digenously,_

_Human right is pry the blue chip, pry_

_You will take the body parts_

_And put them up on the wall_

_And bring the dark disaster_

-- "Dreaming", System of a Down

**Mal Vu: Chapter Three**

_Everyone was dead. Body parts were strewn haphazardly around the ground, the dirt and grime that resembled a blank canvas was finger-painted with mech fluid and internal wires. The very sky seemed to be mourning, shadowy clouds dancing in front of a new moon._

_The only living thing stumbled about on half formed canine legs; all four feet were gone, but the legs themselves remained intact. The open wounds leaked fluid with every jarring, pain-filled step, and the wolf whimpered and whined with every one. It was eager to get to it's goal, and would not stop until it did so._

_A trail of silvery liquid was left in it's wake until it reached a disembodied black and orange head, the feminine face forever frozen in a final scream. The wolf whined loudly upon seeing the skull, what was left of it's front legs hugging the woman's head._

_"Blackarachnia.." The wolf wept with a deep voice, falling in to sobs._

With a horrified shriek, Cheetor woke from recharge, shaking terribly.

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Tension made any attempts at recharge practically impossible. The nervousness, fear, and the promise of pain in the very near future left the two captured mechs unable to offline for more than a few cycles at a time. They hadn't even been there a full two solar cycles -- at least, according to slightly glitched internal clocks -- but it already felt like a vorn.

Despite the fact that the two were from complete opposite sides of a war -- a war now long gone and as dead as those that used to call this their base of operations --, there had been nothing more than base anger when they occasionally spoke to each other. Both were simply too tired and jittery to have the energy left to fight one another.

There had been several surprising attempts by the Predacon to start conversation. Why was not entirely clear, as none of the topics had had any merit or focus. Silverbolt came to the conclusion that the spider had either been attempting to distract himself from the situation as a whole or had simply lost his sanity from the stress and fear. He found himself understanding both possibilities. Still, he harbored deep hate for the caged transmetal and found himself simply unwilling to humor him.

"So.." There was yet another inevitable attempt, the spider jittering about in his transmetal beast form. "..What are you, exactly?"

"Excuse me?" Silverbolt blinked at the question, baffled; now, that was unexpected.

"Your beast form. Half wolf and half of what bird?"

"Why does this matter?" The fuzor rubbed his face, annoyed. Still, he let out a deep breath; perhaps if he answered, the spider would stop talking. "Falcon."

"Oh." It did appear to work; the spider clicked his transmetal legs against the bottom of his cage. Then, he twirled around in the cage for several seconds, apparently having lost focus again. After a little more than a breem, he stopped with a harsh suddenness. "Maximal, can you reach that?!"

Tarantulas's tone -- a deep, serious hiss -- is what brought Silverbolt out of his annoyed stupor. "Reach what?"

"That!" The spider was pointing to the pile of scrap pieces and body parts; the mess of metal was stationed closer to the fuzor's cage than the Predacon's. "The handle!"

"What handle?" Silverbolt stared at the scraps; except for the body parts, most of it looked the same to him. He was neither a scientist nor an inventor; one piece of metal may as well be the same as the next. "..The small one with the green line --"

"Yes!" Tarantulas hissed, transforming in to standard form as he did so. "Can you reach it?!"

Silverbolt frowned deeply; the spiders' tone gave the impression that whatever the handle was connected to was terribly important. So, he reached his hand through the bars, straining. The bars of the cage pressed hard against his shoulder, and he gritted his teeth in pain, pushing against the bars and stretching as far as he could go. Just as he thought he wouldn't and couldn't reach it, the tips of his fingers grabbed hold; the handle was ribbed just enough to allow his fingertips to pull it enough to grab it. A good deal of the metal and body parts that had been on top of the device tumbled and fell in to the nearby lava, melting in to disintegration.

He grinned before he really knew what he had, and the smile vanished once he looked at the small device. "..A screwdriver?"

"Yes!" Tarantulas cheered. "It can open the door!"

The cages had a small door in each one that can be opened up; the door itself was made up of the bars on one entire side, held shut with a digital password-keyed lock. "The lock is digital --"

"Not the lock, you idiot!" The spider hissed, resembling his old self. "The hinges!"

Silverbolt's optics widened in sudden understanding; he jumped for the side of the cage with the door, feeling for the hinges that allowed the door to open and close. The lock might have been sophisticated, but the hinges themselves were still held together with old-fashioned bolts. He wasn't the most graceful of mechs, but he took great care to get the simple screwdriver in to the screws to twist them apart.

Somehow, he was thoroughly surprised when the first bolt jolted free and fell to the lava below. The sight of it and everything it signified renewed him with vigor and the other four bolts quickly followed. The entire door soon fell, hitting the blazing magma in silence, muffled by the lava itself.

The fuzor grinned widely; he no longer had his wings and was missing a talon, but he could still leap. He put the screwdriver in his mouth, biting on the handle; he did not trust himself to safely jump to the other side while holding the small piece of equipment without losing his grip or the device in question. He balanced for only a few seconds before inhaling deeply and making the jump.

He landed with inches to spare, wincing as he tried to get up on one leg. Silverbolt turned to look at Tarantulas, balanced carefully again, and leapt; both hands and his remaining talon clung to the bars of Tarantulas's cage.

"What are --" The spider sputtered, watching the fuzor wrap his arms around the bar and taking hold of the screwdriver to let loose his own cage door. "..Why are you helping me?"

"I am not a Predacon." Silverbolt stated proudly. "I'm not so low and craven as --"

A loud, familiar creak interrupted him. He paused, freezing in terror. The first bolt hadn't even been unscrewed, yet! Terrified silence reigned for only a moment.

"Run..!" Tarantulas sputtered. "Get the Maximals, run!"

Silverbolt slammed the screwdriver on the floor of the spiders' cell and leapt back to the main level. A quick transformation in to his beast form was made before he dashed off. In his robot form, he had one leg to balance on; his canine form still had three.

Despite the fact that wolves were ordinarily swift animals, having talons instead of front paws caused quite a number of problems when running was involved. Avian claws were not made for the repeated and quick force on the ground that Silverbolt now demanded of it, and missing one entirely hampered him further. The shoulder connected to his remaining front leg ached terribly with every bound, but he pushed himself as fast as he could possibly go. There was simply no other option.

He was halfway through the Predacon base when he heard the furious roar; he nearly stumbled from the shock alone.

"Get _back_ here!" Well, Rampage certainly noticed he was gone.

"Primus..!" A prayer as he ran, pushing himself hard. His intake shuddered more than once, threatening to offline him from the exertion alone; just as he thought he would faint and never see the light of day again, he turned a random corner and found the exit.

Unfortunately, there was no light; the ash and soot from the nearby volcano blanketed the entire area in a soft fog. Granted, it was brighter than inside the Darksyde, but it was not the clear blue sky that the fuzor dreamed of flying through.

The volcano also proved another terrible distraction; unlike the inside of the fallen ship, the ground was no longer straight and smooth metal, but now ragged and uneven terrain. Dirt, rocks, broken hills and rivers of boiling magma littered the floor; without his wings to rely on and forced to run with a missing leg, he was slowed down dramatically.

Silverbolt had gotten perhaps thirty feet out when Rampage tore through with a violent cacophony of tearing metal and flying debris. The crab's beast form came equipped with secondary tank treads, practically made for the uneven environment; where the fuzor was slowed, the transmetal's speed actually increased.

He realized it with jarring freight as a monstrously large claw grabbed his back legs. Silverbolt flailed, clawing with his remaining talon and even biting with canine jaws in absolute terror.

Rampage laughed in sheer glee. "Yes, feel the fear! Let the terror --" Something slammed in to his head from the back, and he dropped the flailing wolf. "-- Gah!"

"Run!" Tarantulas shrieked, tumbling on his arachnid back for a moment before twisting upright, wheels erupting from his undercarriage.

Silverbolt struggled to his feet; he hadn't expected Tarantulas to zoom out the exit with cycle-like wheels on his underbelly -- and, apparently, neither had Rampage. He hadn't even known the spider _had_ a vehicle mode! Shaking off the sudden surprise, the fuzor stumbled to his three legs to run again.

Rampage only laughed; he simply grabbed the back wheel and back legs of Tarantulas's fame before the spider could dash off. Said spider shrieked as he was shaken violently through the air and thrown right back through the hole Rampage had made only minutes ago. He did not come out of the hole again.

The large crab tumbled forward on his treads, grabbing the escaping fuzor before Silverbolt could get much farther and tossing him back as well. The intent had been to throw him in the same manner and direction as Tarantulas, but miscalculated slightly; instead, Silverbolt smacked right in to a large boulder above a stream of flowing lava. The wolf let out a canine yelp as he hit the the ashen blockade.

"Whoops." Rampage only laughed, seeming to shrug, before moving towards the fallen mech. "You're never going to leave this place alive, Maximal."

Silverbolt hissed, limping. "Maximize." It was spoken softly; with the missing leg, he balanced his damaged frame on the large stone, glaring in anger and fear at the crab.

"No, I suppose I won't." The Maximal admitted with slight sorrow, taking in a deep breath as the crab came closer. "..But I will not allow you to use me as bait!"

With that, he pushed hard against the stone, pushing himself towards the river of lava only a few feet away.

He had offlined his optics in the anticipation of pain; he received it, but he somehow doubted the sensation of being disintegrated involved a piercing pain around his midsection. After a brief nano-klik, he onlined his optics again, only to find a large claw holding him around the waist, inches above the lava.

"Primus!" This time, Silverbolt cried it out in dismay, looking up at Rampage. He flailed again, beating his fists against the claw holding him. "I will _not_ be used as bait!"

Rampage chuckled, lifting his prisoner high in the air, appearing amused. "Who ever said I was using you as bait?"

Silverbolt stopped in surprise, but quickly began his struggles again. "Then _why _am I still _alive_?!" The frustration and confusion were clear.

Rampage only chuckled, seemingly pleased, bringing the fuzor close. He tilted his crab head ever so slightly to the side. "..Perhaps I miscalculated.." Then, he started to lower his captive back towards the lava, tilted at a slightly different angle.

"What are you.." Silverbolt was going down talon-first, this time. Optics widened in growing fear; he had wanted to meet the lava in death, not in torture. He flailed, but the grip on his midsection was unwavering, and even twisting his remaining talon in the air didn't stop or even delay the crab's intentions. "Don't --"

A scream tore through the air as his remaining talon melted in to the lava, leg held still by the crab's second large claw. He couldn't lift the melting limb from the jarring heat until the crab allowed him to do so.

Silverbolt whimpered once that happened, shaking and staring at both of his missing legs. both now gone barely an inch below the knees.

-------------------------------

"_Optimus!_" Rhinox yelled over the comm with such alarm, everyone who heard the yell over the shared system stopped in shock. "Control room, _now_!"

All of the Maximals in the Axalon had heard the yell in some way or another; Optimus Primal had actually been last to arrive to see everyone crowded around the surveillance system.

"What's --" The captain of the fallen ship rushed forward to stare at the largest screen they had; it was currently set over the Darksyde's doors. Silverbolt -- in beast form -- could be seen running from Rampage while the large mech tossed what looked like Tarantulas inside the Predacon base.

They had only recently gotten audio surveillance to work over the Predacon ship; Tarantulas's scream was clearly heard.

"Holy slag..!" Rattrap gaped. "Is he missin' a leg?!"

"And his wings.." Cheetor whispered in shock. "His wings are.. Gone."

"I am going to _kill_ that slagger!" Blackarachnia hissed, likely meaning Rampage. Her fury quickly melted in to fear as she saw her white knight slam in to large rock.

_"You're never going to leave this place alive, Maximal."_ Rampage's joyous chuckle sent shivers down several spines.

_"No. I suppose not."_

"What is..?" Blackarachnia's optics widened; she didn't like the tone in his voice. "By the Pit, he isn't..!"

_"But I will not allow you to use me as bait!"_ He pushed on the stone to fall backwards.

Blackarachnia let out a soft scream, barely breathing until she realized the creature she once knew simply as Protoform X had stopped the fall.

"Big Bot, we have to get in there!" The youngest Maximal turned to look at Primal. "We know where he is, now!"

"Agreed..!" Primal nodded to Cheetor, looking away from the screen. "Blackarachnia, do you --"

"Holy..!" That seemed to be all Rattrap had been able to say as of late, yelping the words just as Blackarachnia shrieked again. Both barely covered Silverbolt's scream coming from the audio equipment.

"Tarantulas's old lab should still be connected to the Predacon base." Rhinox spoke quickly, trying to build a plan despite what they were witnessing. "Blackarachnia's old layouts should still be accurate enough --"

"Primus, that monster's going to..!" Cheetor promptly emptied his fuel intakes on the floor, vomiting.

"What?" Rattrap sputtered for a moment, glancing to Cheetor until more sound came from the screen.

-------------------------------

For several long seconds, Rampage said and did nothing. He simply held Silverbolt in one pincer, watching in what may have been amusement as the fuzor attempted to wriggle free despite the pain from such a massive injury. He allowed the mech to flail weakly, somehow staying online, for several minutes. "Transform in to beast mode."

The sudden voice got the Maximal's attention. "I.. What?" The pain caused disorientation.

"Go in to beast mode." Rampage ordered again, what looked like a grin plastered on his face. He then dropped the fuzor on the ground, towering over him.

Silverbolt met the soot-covered earth with a gasp and a wince; it took him a moment to realize what the Predacon intended. "I can't run with only my back legs!" He winced again when he realized he was actually _begging_.

"Would you prefer I force you to transform? I promise you, it wouldn't be pleasant." Rampage smirked.

The fuzor stared in horror; he didn't know if the Predacon could actually force his body to transform without his consent, but he realized he did not want to find out. Silverbolt laid there for a moment, looking up at the towering transmetal crab, whispering under his breath. A short second later, and he silently transformed to his canine form.

There was no attempt to move or struggle when the pincer grabbed him around his furred chest; he merely clenched his organic eyes and jaw shut, waiting for the inevitable agony that he couldn't escape from. Despite knowing that Rampage could literally feel his emotions and feed off of them, he could not keep the fear and terror at bay.

The fuzor didn't open his eyes even as he felt himself move through the air. He felt the heat by his hind legs before he felt the pain, and it was the only warning he got to clench his jaw shut. Still, the agony the tore along one leg and then the other evoked nothing short of a howl from jaws that were practically locked shut.

Miraculously -- although it wasn't clear in whose favor it was --, Silverbolt did not fall unconscious from having three of his four legs burned off. He even managed to flutter his eyes open and glare at Rampage, growling weakly.

The destroyer of Omicron only laughed, and rumbled back towards the Darksyde, still holding the fuzor in his claws.

-------------------------------

_Dreaming of screaming_

_Someone kick me out of my mind_

_I hate these thoughts I can't deny_

_Dreaming of screaming_

_Someone kick me out of my mind_

_I hate these thoughts I can't deny_

-- "Dreaming", System of a Down

Author notes: No promises when the next part comes out. *shrug*


	4. Chapter 4

Author notes: I really have nothing better to do with my time.

Disclaimer: AHAHAHAHAHA --- *coughwheezeburp*

--------------------------------

_Foreign the currency, your payment in blood to be_

_Death is the destiny of all of our ways_

_In the dark you hide away for who or what you can't say_

_When I see the power of the demon come alive_

_You know that sanity is not as ti was meant to be_

_And now that misery has taken a new stand_

-- "My Spirit Will Go On", Dragonforce

**Mal Vu: Chapter Four**

Despite the fact that his wounds ached terribly and damage reports clamored for attention, Silverbolt found himself completely and utterly annoyed with the situation. Who could have known that such a catastrophe could occur in less than two days time? The attempted escape hadn't gone very well at all, and although the Maximals knew of his dire situation, they hadn't made the glorious attack/rescue Optimus had promised.

Not that he blamed them; Rampage was a devious and powerful creature. Really, the fact that he had prisoners that functioned at all was a small miracle.

Perhaps the annoyance was a coping mechanism. He found that, really, he didn't care. All he knew was that he felt annoyed, and it was a more preferable emotion than terror.

All this was mused over as the monster in question happily strolled along in his beast form, holding the fuzor in the air above his head. The gigantic transmetal crab barely fit through the halls of the Predacons' former base; even as he passed Tarantulas's unmoving body -- in stasis lock, it seemed --, he tossed the spider on top of his crustacean back and kept on moving.

Silverbolt assumed they'd end up back in the cages over the lava. Different cages, perhaps, considering they had let the doors to their prisons fall to the boiling rivers below. When the crab walked right by the hallway that would have led them to the cages, humming pleasantly, the fuzor started to worry.

"Where are you taking us, monster?" He growled it as he asked, knowing it really didn't matter if the creature was in a pleasant mood or not. It seemed Rampage inflicted pain no matter what he was feeling at the time; no need to try and placate him with silence.

For some reason, Rampage decided to humor his prisoner. "The Maximals are bound to come for you, now. May as well prepare." He chuckled softly.

The fuzor froze for a moment; his allies had either seen or heard his recent torture, then. The realization evoked a growl, ashamed that his love may have heard him beg. He fell silent, then, not knowing what to do or say.

Rampage continued to hum merrily, a rather disturbing sound to the only conscious captive -- although he doubted Tarantulas would have found the sound any more joyous than he did -- and continued to walk along the halls. He stopped outside what was marked as a storage room and dumped both Maximal and Predacon on the floor. The fuzor hissed as he hit the metal floor hard, glaring daggers at the gigantic crab.

There was no surprise when Rampage walked in to the storage room, returning seconds later in his standard form with a handful of stasis cuffs of various sizes. The destroyer of Omicron paused for a moment over Tarantulas, likely considering exactly how to handcuff a transmetal spider, before simply settling on locking one entire set of legs to the other. Then -- much to the chagrin of Silverbolt -- what was left of his front legs were handcuffed together, as well as the stumps that were his hind legs. The only real purpose of being bound would be to keep him from transforming.

Still humming, Rampage walked back inside the storage room, door sliding shut behind him, leaving the deformed fuzor to silence.

--------------------------------

"Blackarachnia, are the tunnels between Tarantulas's old lab and the Predacon base still intact?" Optimus Primal spoke quickly, looking towards the femme.

"They were the last time I checked." Blackarachnia nodded just as fast, eager to leave the Axalon. "Tarantulas was a paranoid slagger, but wasn't very creative with passwords. I can get in easy."

"Good." Primal took a deep breath. "Rhinox, Cheetor, stay here. Contact me if Rampage leaves or if anything changes. Rattrap, Blackarachnia, you're with me."

"What?!" Cheetor sputtered, shocked at the order. "Big bot, I can --"

"Stay _here_!" Primal frowned. "Help Rhinox, keep the shields up as high as they can go!" The youngest Maximal was brash and impulsive; he simply knew Cheetor would end up in trouble if he came along with the rescue.

The transmetal feline sputtered, actually pouting. "..Fine. Fine.." Clearly, he was unhappy with the decision.

"Good.." Primal looked at Rhinox. "If we don't come back --"

"I know." Rhinox nodded once. "Stay here and keep the shields up."

Without another word, Optimus Primal, Rattrap and Blackarachnia left the Axalon. Not even Rattrap grumbled with his atypical sarcasm, the seriousness of the situation bearing down on them all.

--------------------------------

Rampage didn't emerge from the storage room for what felt like a long while. Perhaps the silence made the wait feel more extended than it really was. Regardless, when he did finally come out in his crab form, he carried several large, closed boxes on his crustacean back. How he balanced them all there without any sort of bindings was unclear. Still humming what sounded suspiciously like a lullaby, the large crab simply picked up Silverbolt and Tarantulas and kept on walking without skipping a beat.

Silverbolt frowned deeply as they went further and further in to the Predacon base. He had only been inside the Darksyde once, and he didn't recognize where they were from the brief memory. After several halls were passed by, they made a sharp turn in to an open door; his canine jaw dropped in shock at the sight that met him.

It was Megatron's room. At least, it used to be, if the throne was any indication. The disembodied head of the Predacon leader on the grandiose chair was also an omen of where they were. The rest of Megatron's body was nowhere in sight, but pieces of Inferno's corpse littered the room, surrounding the throne in a macabre fashion. Although the stench of mech fluid had been frequent as of late, the sheer level of it now actually caused Silverbolt to cringe.

Still, Rampage did not stop; he simply kept on walking, heading to the back of the room. Without a warning, the transmetal let loose a single, startling blast; it took down a wall, revealing a secret stairway. Silverbolt boggled at the secret exit.

Miraculously, Rampage could fit through. He waddled down the stairs, met a long corridor, and -- after nearly an entire hour -- out an open door that resembled a cave and in to the light of day.

The first thing Silverbolt noticed was the grass on the ground; the Darksyde had been at the base of a volcano and surrounded by ashen soot and lava. A quick glance spotted said volcano and the broken, half melted ship that served as the Predacon base of operations only a short time ago. It was all very, very far away.

"Where are you taking us?" The fuzor would have obviously been worried even if Rampage couldn't feel his emotions.

"You, dear Maximal, are going home." The crab chuckled.

"What?" His avian tail twitched in nervousness.

Rampage only chuckled, declining a response. His vehicle-mode treads came with a sudden whir; then, they started to move at a much faster pace.

--------------------------------

When they finally did stop, the two prisoners were, again, dumped unceremoniously on the floor. Silverbolt yelped, this time, as his injured legs met the ground first. He bit his tongue to keep from yelling in pain, instead choosing to glare at the large mech. The still unconscious Tarantulas wasn't too far off, and, soon after, the cargo of boxes were carefully set on the ground next to the pair, set down one by one. Whatever the boxes held was obviously very important to Rampage.

"Terrorize." The crab transformed, opened one of the smaller boxes, and retrieved a long chain. He seemed to grin, wrapping the chain around the fuzor's canine neck and closing it shut with a small, simple lock. The other end was tied to a nearby tree. Then, he happily walked away, leaving the two prisoners and his cargo.

Silverbolt fumed at the humiliation; did the giant Predacon really believe he would run off in his condition, or was he simply trying to antagonize him? The spider wasn't tied up. Although, Tarantulas couldn't run or transform with the way he was bound, even if he were to wake up. Glaring after the crab, his gaze caught sight of an unexpected feature in the distance.

"Primus.." The Axalon was practically right in front of them. Had they really gotten so far in such a short amount of time? With growing horror, he suddenly knew what the destroyer of Omicron intended.

"..Slag.." The groan caught him by surprise; Tarantulas stirred, twitching. "Wha --" He flailed in his bindings. "That _Unicron spawn_!"

Silverbolt snorted at the unusual insult. "Agreed, although I would not call him that directly."

The spider stopped for a moment, arachnid eyes blinking slowly. "..Are you on a leash?" At the growl that served as a response, he shook himself slightly, clearing his thoughts. "Where _are_ we?"

"By the Axalon." Silverbolt frowned deeply. "Too far away to call for help, not close enough to know why."

"Wonderful." Tarantulas seemed to slump, noticing the state the fuzor was in with subdued interest. "..Did he do that to you?"

Silverbolt growled, annoyed by the less than intelligent query. "Who else would? Besides you, of course."

All nine of the spiders' eyes rolled a bit, but his thoughts focused again. "..And he didn't do anything to me."

Silverbolt only growled, yet found himself understanding why the spider was confused and concerned; he had, after all, asked similar questions of the spider not that long ago. "Nothing that I'm aware of."

"..Slag." Tarantulas slumped a little further, pensive.

The two stayed in silence for several long minutes; the spring birds above sang in ignorance. Somehow, their ordinarily beautiful symphony now carried an air of sadness; neither of them knew what would happen to them now or where they were going to end up, if they would even survive to see the next solar cycle.

The rumination didn't last long; the sound of blaster fire filled the air, heard clearly even at this distance from the fallen Axalon ship. Silverbolt perked up in nothing less than horror, a deep fear that only increased when he heard high pitched shrieking. Neither of the two prisoners said anything yet, only looking to the distant ship in wide-eyed shock.

Not a breem after the shrieking had ended, familiar tank treads rumbled across the ground. Rampage, clearly delighted, quietly moved towards the boxes and piled them on his back. Then, he picked up the spider and wingless wolf -- snapping the chain but leaving a portion of it as a collar -- in each of his pincers and rolled towards the Axalon.

The elevator lift that went up to the Axalon was down now; Rampage carefully piled the boxes inside it and set both mechs on top of them. After a quick transformation, he calmly walked inside and pressed the button to bring the lift up.

Before Silverbolt could even see what state the inside of the ship he called home was in, he was thrown in to the control room. He slammed against a CR-tank and slid to the floor, coughing at a sudden catch in his intake. Tarantulas followed a short second later, hitting the floor.

"Silverbolt?!"

The fuzor in question turned his head in shock, only to stare in horror; a very familiar, terrified mech was bound and tied in stasis cuffs several feet away. "Cheetor!" Then, a deep pit formed in his spark; he had a very, very bad feeling about what would happen in the next short while. Silverbolt looked around for any sign of Rampage, only to find him -- and the boxes -- gone to who knows where.

"How did he get past Sentinel..?" Silverbolt sputtered, looking at Cheetor.

"He.." Cheetor shook a little. "..He just.. Walked right in. The shields didn't even DO anything..! Oh, slag, Rat-face was right, we're gonna die.."

Silverbolt winced. He stumbled, attempting to walk on what was left of his bound legs, crawling like a worm. "Where's Optimus?"

"The others went to the Preds to get _you_!" The transmetal cat was actually hog tied.

Silverbolt winced in guilt; his wounds opened slightly despite the internal wires in his legs having melted and fuzed when they met the lava, leaving a sickening trail of mech fluid in their wake. It took far longer than the fuzor wanted to get to the master controls, gritting in teeth in pain as he balanced entirely on his hind legs. Of course, without actual hands or talons to work with and barely able to reach most of the controls, he couldn't actually use them. He pounded what was left of his front legs on the inclined metal, spreading his own mech fluid further. "Will nothing _work?!_"

Cheetor's whimper was warning enough to turn; Rampage stood, appearing amused, not ten feet away. "At this rate, I'm going to have to remove your legs entirely."

Silverbolt snarled, basic survival forgotten with a threatened friend and ally in the room. As it was, he was ignoring his damage reports and the need to collapse. "What is it that you _want _with us?!"

Rampage appeared ready to burst out laughing. "I want you to suffer, mostly. It's entertaining. Something has to keep me amused until I get off this planet."

"You.." Tarantulas sputtered in sudden realization. "..You want me to rebuild one of the ships.."

This time, Rampage did burst out laughing. Hilarity rang in his voice. "It's taken you _this _long to figure this out?" He shook his head a little, chuckling. "The Darksyde had the problem of being half melted. This one doesn't have that issue."

"..Oh." Tarantulas seemed at peace with this. "It all makes sense, now."

Even Rampage gave Tarantulas an odd look, but quickly shook it off. With a chuckle, he walked slowly towards the bound Cheetor.

"Don't you dare!" Silverbolt snarled; he had never felt such fury in his life. Adrenaline ran through his systems, overriding even the basic survival mechanisms. It was the only reason he had the strength or energy to leap at the hulking transmetal's side, somehow even clinging on and biting down as hard as he could on a shoulder.

The crab in question yelped in surprise, taking a single step back. Then, he grabbed the canine's skull with one hand and the simple collar with the other, throwing him hard to the floor; the fuzor let out an animalistic howl of pain. This time, his body got the better of his mind, and he didn't attempt to get up again.

"Silverbolt!" Cheetor yelped, flailing in his binds. "You _slag-sucking scrap heap_!"

Rampage only chuckled and nudged the barely conscious fuzor out of the way. "You aren't a very bright child, are you..?"

--------------------------------

A thorough search of the Darksyde had only found corpses and sickening displays. There had been no sight or sound of anything remotely useful until Rattrap had found the secret passage hidden in the back of Megatron's throne room.

"Son of a..!" The rat sputtered. He turned on his comm. "Yo, Optimus, we got an extra door leadin' out back here!"

"What?!" Optimus stopped mid-stride, deep in the half melted ship's hull. "I'm going to call Rhinox.." He pressed a few buttons on the comm. "Optimus to base, come in Rhinox." There was nothing but worrying static. "..Come in, Cheetor. _Some_one answer me!"

"Hello, Primal." A slow, deep voice; the grin was practically tangible. "The Maximals aren't able to take your call, right now. Leave a message after the beep."

Optimus's entire body went cold. How did he even get inside the Axalon?! With a few quick button presses, Blackarachnia and Rattrap's comm units lit up in alarm. "If you hurt any of them, I swear to Primus.."

"Now, that's not a very good last message." Rampage chuckled. "You should have killed me when you had the chance. Your mistake, Primal."

"You sickening..!" Optimus hissed, rushing for the Darksyde's exit.

"You want them? Then come and get them." Rampage laughed, ending the call.

--------------------------------

_You know that sanity is not as it was meant to be_

_And now that misery has taken a new stand_

_On the wings of eagles flying, staring on to the sun_

_Reaching for the gold horizon when the war shall be won_

_Can you see the debauchery and the blade of death that has come for thee?_

_In winds of torment forever more you will cry for just_

_One more time to escape from all this madness_

_One more time to be set free from all this sadness_

_And one last time to be the one who understands_

-- "My Spirit Will Go On", Dragonforce

Author notes: ..What? Why are you staring at me like that? o_o


End file.
